


Hot In The Moonlight

by placida_nox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spooning, but he's just trying to be cute, derek is a man of few words, mythical creatures, supernatural shenanigans bring everyone closer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placida_nox/pseuds/placida_nox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles should’ve realised that Derek wouldn’t always be able to rely on anger. </p>
<p>Or the one where Stiles makes an important discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot In The Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Ended up writing this a few months ago so I figured I should get around to posting it. Just for reference, this is set after the events of Season 3 and disregards the events of Season 4. Also you can safely assume no one died and the pack is altogether. Can you tell I’m having a hard time letting go? Thank you to my wonderful cousin for editing it, check out her tumblr [here](http://thegirltohavesomejuicewith.tumblr.com)!
> 
> The title is a lyric from the song “Hit And Run” by Breathe Carolina.

Stiles wakes up and immediately feels annoyed. He’s annoyed because he was having a really good, no scratch that, a great dream (the first one in a long time) and instead of dreaming it, he’s now awake.

There’s already a fundamental problem there.

He can’t even remember why it was so great in the first place so he can’t go back to sleep trying to think about it.

Stupid subconscious.

He can’t tell why he’s woken up either. Blinking until his vision focuses, he looks around his room that is half lit up by the intense light flooding through the window from the full moon.

According to Scott and Isaac, for some reason this full moon was having a really bad effect on them, making it harder for them to control their wolfy urges. Scott had been really angsty the whole day and Isaac had been more homicidal than usual, if that was even possible. They could have gone to Deaton but both of them said they could handle it so they didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Stiles suddenly realises he feels trapped though. Not so much paralysed, as slightly crushed.

He looks down and there’s a hairy forearm across his waist.

Well that’s new.

That wasn’t there when he went to sleep. Though he doesn’t really make a habit out of falling asleep with a strange limb next to him and how exactly did his mind get on that tangent? Shouldn’t he be panicking right now?

Stiles cranes his neck back to see who’s in his bed and hopes that whoever it is, is someone who’s not going to kill him. The cuddling doesn’t really suggest maiming and/or death but anything is possible when it’s Stiles. He hates his life sometimes.

It’s Derek.

And this is not one of the times when Stiles hates his life.

Life just got infinitely better, but not any less confusing. Derek could still wake up and kill him but Stiles isn’t that worried since he’s sleeping like a little puppy. 

Stiles turns back around and frowns as he stares at the opposite wall.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t ever thought ~~a lot~~ about activities he and Derek could do together in a bed. Actually forget the bed, ‘any time and anywhere’ was pretty much Stiles’ mantra when it came to that sort of stuff with Derek. But spooning was never on the list. It wasn’t (cue awkward cough) rigourous enough for his imagination.

Could you blame Stiles’ imagination though? Derek’s perfectly sculpted _everything_ had started it so technically… it was Derek’s fault that Stiles was getting a little bit of a hard on now as he watched a little compilation in his head of the imaginings he had been having since meeting Derek. Yeah, totally Derek’s fault. And yes, Stiles does realise he’s pathetic.

But it doesn’t help when that perfectly sculpted _everything_ is spooning him. Literally _everything_. Stiles doesn’t understand how Derek is so crafted to perfection, even the guy’s buckteeth are adorable. And it’s really distracting, mostly because it feels so nice being pressed up against Derek.

Stiles goes to move and escape the incredibly distracting, rippling muscleness that is Derek Hale, but when he does Derek’s arm around him tightens and pulls him in closer.

What is even happening right now?

Stiles’ eyes dart around the room looking for any sort of a lifeline. He isn’t really sure what you’re supposed to do when you become a grown werewolf’s stuffed sleeping toy. And he’s way too self-aware to try and go back to sleep.

So he goes to his default strategy in these types of situations – goes straight for annoying Derek, and nudges Derek’s leg with his own.

“Derek,” he whispers but there’s no response.

“Yo, big bad wolf man.” That gets a stir.

As a last resort, Stiles feels the need to revert to an old classic. “Sour wolf!”

“What?” Derek finally growls near his ear and Stiles has to desperately try and fight with his brain that, no that did not make him shiver.

He’s just cold. And Derek is hogging the blankets.

Let him believe the lie.

“Not that this isn’t fun I mean you’re better than an electric blanket,” he hears Derek scoff. “But just one question, uh, why are you here?” He tries to aim for casual but hits nervous so hard on the nose that Stiles feels like his dad is going to walk through the door and arrest him for assault. Oh god, the last thing Stiles needs right now is for his dad to walk in and witness this.

“Moon,” Derek replies sleepily. Stiles doesn’t remember ever giving him permission to be so cute in the middle of the night.

“You’re here because of the full moon?” Stiles asks with a frown even though he knows Derek can’t see his face.

Derek grunts.

If Stiles does say so himself, he has become quite well schooled in the art of translating the Neanderthal grunt – that one meant “yes.” Archaic Latin it’s not but still an achievement in his eyes.

Stiles snickers and asks dramatically, “Having trouble controlling the ‘beast’ are we?” He would have added in quotation marks except his arm is trapped under Derek’s.

Another grunt.

That was the “No, but I really mean yes I just don’t want to admit I have any weaknesses because I need to maintain my manly werewolf image” grunt. Stiles will probably have to consider making an acronym or something for that one.

“But why are you _here_ exactly? Spooning me to death…” Stiles mutters under his breath.

All he gets is a softer grunt in response, one he hasn’t come across yet in the Derek Hale caveman vocabulary.

“I needed to calm down,” Derek admits a second later though.

What the hell does that even mean?

It’s so stooped in vagueness that Stiles thinks it shouldn’t even count as an answer.

“And what? You can’t calm down… without, uh, me?” Stiles stumbles on the words as they come out of his mouth, squinting in the half-darkness while he tries to figure out Derek’s deal.

“Yes,” Derek sighs, and Stiles ignores how he can feel Derek’s breath against his neck and how it makes goose bumps form on his skin.

He chooses to focus on the fact that Derek sighed like Stiles should know exactly what he means and what he’s talking about. Sighed like he doesn’t understand why Stiles is being so slow on the uptake. Well it makes Stiles sigh like Derek is an asshole.

Stiles doesn’t know why though. Of all the people Derek can go to, why did he choose Stiles? Stiles knows that Derek was the one that called him ‘skinny, defenseless Stiles.’ See. Asshole. 

Then all of a sudden, like his brain was just violently kicked into overdrive, he starts thinking about what happened a few days before this little bed-sharing incident.

The pack had been dealing with a few sirens. Yep, sirens; seductresses of the sea, the scourge of sailors, had apparently thought it’d be fun to come to Beacon Hills and start killing a few people. What else was new?

When Stiles had brought up that they were nowhere near the sea, Deaton had said that it didn’t matter – sirens could survive on land, they were just even deadlier in water. That was when Stiles had started to miss when the only thing really important on their supernatural pack agenda, was dealing with angry fairies that seemed to always gravitate towards Beacon Hills Preserve to find a new home.

Anyway, no one was surprised when the sirens had decided to go after Derek. Well Stiles wasn’t surprised. They were probably powerless to resist his jawline. Stiles wouldn’t blame them, Derek was basically a siren himself in his own way.

Stiles had been the first one to find Derek.

The surprise on Derek’s face when he’d burst into the room had been a little insulting but Stiles hadn’t had much time to be offended because you know. Sirens. He’d managed to fight them off long enough for Scott and the others to come running in to help.

While he’d been undoing Derek’s shackles (not even handcuffs but shackles, where could you even get shackles anymore? But Stiles figured the sirens had brought them as souvenirs from the bottom of whatever ocean they’d crawled out of) one had tried to sneak up behind Derek and kill him before Stiles had the chance to free him. Stiles spotted it in time and magically, a few lessons with Deaton and he wasn’t just using that as a creative adjective anymore, he killed it.

After he had dragged a very weak Derek out of the building they were keeping him in, Derek had started acting… weird. When Stiles wasn’t looking, he could feel Derek staring at him, but when Stiles looked at him, Derek would just turn away.

At the time, he’d pinned it on hurt pride. That it was just Derek’s way of brooding because he was the one the mythical creatures went after again. And then Stiles had been the one to save his life. Again.

But this, the spooning, was beginning to remind him a lot of what Scott had been like in the beginning with Allison who he said made him feel safe and in control. It was when Scott had realised Allison was his–

No. No way.

The stupid caveman could have said something, but did he really expect Derek to be able to effectively communicate something important without relying on his eyebrows? Stiles realises that’s asking a lot.

One part of Stiles feels indescribable glee, and he’s going to milk this for all it’s worth, and the other part of him is starting to feel this crushing responsibility.

But he’s pretty good at ignoring responsibility most of the time, when the moment calls for it.

“Oh my god, have I become your– ” but there’s a hand clamped over his mouth before he can say ‘anchor.’

He can’t help but dissolve into laughter behind Derek’s hand. This is the best love confession ever.

“Stiles,” Derek warns against the skin of his neck but Stiles can hear the smile in his voice, “shut up and go to sleep.”

He removes his hand from Stiles’ mouth and Stiles lifts up his arm up so Derek can put his own more easily around Stiles’ waist again. Stiles rests his arm on top of Derek’s and is glad when Derek doesn’t pull away. He’s even feeling brave enough to thread their fingers together. Derek accepts it without hesitation.

As Stiles leans back against Derek’s chest and closes his eyes, there’s still a grin on his face.

“Don’t worry big guy, I’ll tie you down.”

 


End file.
